


I Thought I Knew You

by Atacama



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, First Dates, Food Porn, Foreplay, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, POV Brian Kinney, POV Justin Taylor, Relationship(s), Season/Series 05, Semi-Public Sex, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 03:30:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3341939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atacama/pseuds/Atacama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Justin had driven Brian’s drunken ass home and confronted him in episode 507. </p><p>“Only someone that you really love can hurt you, to the extent that sometimes you hate to love them. For me to hate you this much I need to love you a hell of a lot.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Re-posting of some very old fic (circa 2007) from LJ to AO3. Sorry to spam and I apologise in advance for the errors of a younger writer.

_I thought I knew you_   
_But I guess I was wrong_   
_You only see the things you convinced yourself you saw_   
_But like you said, I guess, yeah_   
_Maybe I'm blind_   
_Why don’t you open your eyes you might like what you find_

_Cause I've been waiting for such a long time_   
_Your love is still fresh in my mind_   
_But oh my love, though I wait can't you see_   
_I can't wait forever for you to say you love me_   
**_Oh My Love – by Sophia_ **

 

 

Justin’s POV

I've been sitting here on the stairs like a pussy, listening to Brian rant at Michael and I'm so angry. At him! At myself! At everything! He's making me sound like a defector to the fucking cause. Maybe I didn’t explain myself when I told him I was leaving. Maybe I should have made sure he understood… why I was actually leaving… maybe…

Fuck second-guessing myself! Since when has he ever required a reason for anything? It's my call where I want to be... right? I put my head in my hands and wallow in my self-pity for a while longer.

Shit! He makes this so difficult. Why is he here bitching and moaning at Michael? Why now? Why didn’t he ask me? We could have shouted and fought about it, we could have had unbelievable angry fucking and then some great make up sex and we could have compromised on… something. 

Everything’s so fucking difficult. Growing up is over-rated!! But I already knew that.

I take a deep breath and stand up. If he's here… that means something… somehow it means something… and somehow we are going to resolve this. I don’t know how or what that means… but resolution is going to happen. I start to descend the steps quietly.

I pause and frown. Shit, I'm so tired of fighting with such a pushover. Brian will queen out about the most insignificant shit and stand his ground till doomsday when it comes to any discussion, whether it's about politics or the type of bread we buy… but when it comes to something serious, something that matters he goes blank and… it's almost like I'm fighting by myself. He’ll turn his back and walk away.

Fuck it… we’re sorting this out. I need to interrupt this before it gets out of hand. So I call out to him, to get his attention.

“Brian, I'll take you home.” 

He stiffens and then swings to face me but he doesn’t register any surprise. He's wearing one of his many masks and he seems to have sobered up instantly.

He turns to Michael, “He’s here… of course he's here. Ran straight into the arms of the initiative.” He says sarcastically. I close my eyes, breathe out, open them and decide to give as good as I get. After all we’re not together anymore so he can't kick me out, or dump me, or fuck me, or hurt me… 

Who the fuck am I kidding?

But I'm still gonna give as good as I get… regardless. I'm going to get what I want this time. It's just that… I don’t know what it is that I want anymore. Okay… so what do I want? … Him. I really… God, I just really want him. 

But no, that never works. Having him has never been a problem it's everything else… I… when I look at him my mind just tends to fixate on having him. This isn’t the time for wanting though.

“Shut up Brian, before you dig yourself into an even bigger hole and we end up never talking to each other again.”

“We talked?” Brian raises an eyebrow. Yes, he also does that when he's drunk. Actually he's a very coherent drunk. He's had a ton of practice. “We were planning on talking, were we? How ambitious of you.” His sardonic smile might frighten me but since I'm ignoring it, its effect is… there is no effect, because I am ignoring it.

“I meant you and Michael… but sure us too. Why after 4 years of my attempting to have a meaningful conversation you decide we should talk now, is beyond me but whatever.” I say sarcastically.

“We never followed conventional…” he can't seem to find the right word. I can feel for him for that. I could never find the right words when it came to anything regarding us either. He settles on “things.” He makes eye contact and I swear they soften briefly before turning cold again. It was probably the light.

“No… we never did.” I say. 

Michael seems furious for some reason. Maybe Brian said something really bitchy before I interrupted… I wasn’t really paying attention but he seems offended that I'm here talking to Brian. He probably thinks that after one look we’ll toss our clothes off and fuck right here. Not that I blame him, if we were together it would generally go something along those lines, although we do have more self-control. 

We would wait until we were locked in his bathroom.

“Justin, I'll drive him… actually fuck that I'll call him a taxi.” Michael is looking between us and he seems… ashamed or disgusted or something I really don’t like seeing on his face. I need to get out of here.

“Michael its fine I'll put him to bed.” I touch his arm and move towards Brian.

“But you’ve broken up it's not your problem anymore.” Michael says, surprised.

I turn to face him, “Well, since it looks like you guys have broken up too… I think I can make a sacrifice to a worthy cause.” I say sarcastically. You would think that just because we weren’t fucking we’re supposed to hate each other. Maybe that’s what Michael was expecting or hoping for but none of us are still in kindergarten. At least I'm not and Brian tends to be mature about most things, I'll give him some credit and say high school…

Brian steps back, “Fuck this! I don’t need help to get back to the loft, I do it everyday. And fuck if I ever become anyone’s fucking worthy cause. You all can go to hell.” 

Okay 3rd grade.

“I'll take you Brian. Apparently we need to have a conversation.” I stand firm, because… well I… stand firm.

“You think because I showed up here to bitch at Michael…” he laughs, looking at Michael as if they’re about to share a secret. “The little twat thinks I care now.” 

I blink! Fucker! I grab his hand and drag him out the door; wave to Mikey as I shut it before he can try to interfere.

“You’re an Idiot. You think I would have stuck by you for more than 4 fucking years if I didn’t think you cared for me? Come on, give me the keys to the Vette.” I tell him as I drag him towards the car.

“Okay,” it seems Brian might be a little drunker than I thought. He never willingly hands over the keys to the Vette without a fight first. But he's here… so I guess that’s already proof that his alcohol intake is playing with his natural intuition to not let anyone notice that he’s noticed that I'm no longer living at the loft.

The ride back home is silent. I spend it brooding and I expect Brian spends it trying to replenish the blood in his alcohol.

 

____________________

 

When we arrive I open the door for him. He's been silent so far and blank. It's his way of sulking. He walks in and starts to unbutton his black shirt but he stops halfway down and looks up at me.

“What are you still doing here? You got me home, I'm fine; you can go now.”

I hover by the doorway, “I thought maybe you’d want to talk or maybe ask me something?”

“Talk? What on earth gave you that impression? I don’t want to talk with you or anyone so you can go. Bu-bye.”

“Brian this is fucking ridiculous. Maybe what gave me the impression you wanted to talk was that you were banging on Michael’s door at fuck knows what time in the morning.”

He shrugs, “This is a waste of time you should go.”

“Brian! Please just stop! For one minute just stop!” he turns to look at me. For a long time he just stares and I can see flickers of different emotions passing through but he finally settles on the one he understands best, wanting me, lust and need.

He moves swiftly towards me and I move away from him… I'm pretty sure that I move away from him… I hope I'm moving away from him and that I'm not moving towards him because… that wouldn’t be good.

He kisses me. God, he kisses me with his whole body in that way only he can kiss me; where I lose all awareness of my surroundings, of my thoughts and feelings, of my body. If he touches me I'm pretty sure I wouldn’t know about it because every part of me is centred, possessed by him kissing me. The force of it has my head bent back as he supports all my weight. But maybe he keeps moving us backwards because suddenly I'm leaning against something but I don’t know what it is because I've lost my sense of orientation. That’s a lie… I've lost my senses. All of them!

He stops and pulls back watching me. He lets me regain my sanity and he seems triumphant, as if he’s made a point, proven it and driven it home, hard. 

He thinks that he's shown me that I still want him but… I already knew that. I've always known it. What he doesn’t know is that this ‘point’… he's only proven it to himself because he’s the one that needed to know if he still had an effect on me.

My hand is on his head and I tighten my fingers on his scalp. “Brian, I know this.” I say softly, he looks at me blankly. He's still got his body pressed against mine and we’re pressed against… the door, I realise now. Only his head is pulling away from me as he looks down at me and waits for meet continue.

“You wanted to prove that I still want you?” I say quietly, looking at him directly as I stroke my fingers through his hair, as if to soften the blow of the knowledge I'm about to impart to him. “I don’t think I know how to stop. Don’t worry… if you need reassurance… you’re ability to make me weak… it’s still in good condition.” 

He steps back from me and lets me go. It looks like he wants to say something to refute his need for any kind of assurance from me but he doesn’t. There’s nothing he could say that would make me believe him.

He turns and walks towards the bedroom. 

“You can go now.” He says without turning to me. “As you can see, you brought me home safely and unless you want to undress me and tuck me in, you can leave.”

I stay where I am. “I thought that we could discuss some things. It seems that you need me to clarify some things… why you were at Michael’s…?” I trail off angry with myself for my lack of assertion. He turns back to look at me.

“I don’t need anything.” He states steadily. 

I snort… unattractive I know. “That’s bull, Brian. You’re the most dependent person I know. You just tend to rely on the things that can't return the sentiment. Sex, drugs, alcohol…”

His arms are crossed, “Big words little boy but I already know that you know how to use them. You don’t have to prove that you know me anymore. You’ve left already so… Fuck! Off!”

“Brian,” I try to be gentle with him. I should know better. He roles his eyes and walks towards me.

“I don’t need explanations. I don’t need, want or have the desire to hear the ‘can we still be friends’ speech, so don’t worry! You’ve done all you can with your attempt at pacifying me.” 

He's indulging me with that little sermon. He thinks he's taken away all the things I was going to say; that now that I don’t have to go through with it I'll leave him alone. I cross my arms and raise one of my eyebrows and look at him sardonically.

“You think I'm here to give you a friends speech and to make excuses?” his head is down and he's not looking at me but he's paying attention. “Friends I have and excuses… you told me I would _never_ need them. Do you want them? The excuses? The reasons? Are you curious?”

“No!” his eyes flash he's uncomfortable. He hates that feeling.

“Because if you want them I can give them to you.”

“No! I am a grown up. I appreciate the ways of the world. I taught them to you and you learnt them well. There were never locks. You stayed until it wasn’t what you wanted anymore. So obviously, this wasn’t what you wanted anymore.”

“My leaving has nothing to do with me not loving you anymore.” He looks at me sharply. I move towards him then reconsider and stay put. I don’t want to touch him right now. That would make it too easy to forget the reason we’re here.

“That is not what I just said.” He says very deliberately, “Those are not words that were mentioned… in whatever it is that I just said.”

“It's just at some point I had to choose…” I continue looking at him beseechingly, hoping he can try and understand. “To decide… whether I loved myself more and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“My condolences.” His eyes are hard and he's turned cold. I feel so defeated, he wears me out and I'm tired. I shake my head and I sigh.

“Brian,” I wasn’t expecting that saying his name would garner me his attention but he seems to suddenly look directly at me and his words lose their cutting edge. 

“You wanted marriage and commitment and I wasn’t going to give you that. I understand Justin, so you can leave.” He says matter-of-factly. As if he's accepted it and moved on… Liar!

“This was never about marriage and… commitment is totally subjective. I know that you were committed to what we were, I never doubted that.”

“Well, obviously what we were, wasn’t enough and you wanted a ‘what we are’ and ‘might be’. Proposition 14…” 

I interrupt.

“…It’s not about me wanting marriage. It's about someone who doesn’t want to… even begin to know me or understand me, telling me I can't have it. That I'm not allowed to want it. That even if I did want it, maybe, some day, that I don’t deserve it.” 

“Fine, but you were still expecting…”

“It wasn’t about monogamy, or marriage or anything...” I interrupt him again. I take a breath fortifying myself over what I know I'm going to say next but it still comes out small and sad and… I hate that. “You stopped caring it was me, Brian. You got used to it, having someone there, a person. A live in lover was convenient for you but… you stopped caring that it was _me_.”

“What? Justin…” he closes his eyes and ducks his head but doesn’t say anything else so I continue.

“Before LA when you asked me to move in… I know that you really meant that. You wouldn’t have asked me if you hadn’t meant it?” That came out as if it were a question… it wasn’t supposed to be a question… I hope it wasn’t a question that I was supposed to ask. 

“Justin, you know…” he makes it so difficult for himself. I try to lighten the mood… just lighten something… but it comes out sounding frustrated.

“After I came back from LA you spent the first two months expecting me to leave again and… I was anticipating that… it's who you are… your defensive mechanisms, they kicked in and… but… you didn’t ever stop expecting me to leave… you usually stop…” I trail off but I look at him and it makes me pick up the thread again. “And I waited for you to notice that I was here. But you just kept waiting for me to go… until, finally you stopped caring and it was as if, in your head… I was already gone.”

“Justin…”

“The foursome…?” I say strongly, “You said we’d been together for 4 weeks.” He looks apologetic “…because 4 weeks was… is… 4 weeks… that’s insignificant. When 4-week-old relationships end, no one bats an eyelash, like Emmett, in and out of love again every week… we move on. You were already trying to move on from me and I was right in front of you… trying to keep you. Loving you hurts... No!” I shake my head “That’s a lie, loving anyone hurts. It's just that I was so tired.” I turn to face him and go towards him but not close enough to touch him. That would be too much temptation.

“I will never be over you… you were my first…” I catch a glint in his eye as if he's remembering “I'm not talking about sex… I’m your first too.” Hesitantly I look up at him and he looks disbelieving and apprehensive. “If I leave and you never see me again… I… I don’t think you’d let anyone in, ever again. I showed you all the weaknesses in that wall of yours while I was cutting through. So now that you know where they are you’re going to reinforce them and move on. You don’t want a second. It will always just be me.”

He looks resigned but I know I just made myself more important than he wants to think I am.

____________________

 

Brian’s POV

Fuck!

The little… he was always… just… if I wasn’t pretty much sober by now my lack of coherence… well… it would be JB’s fault. I really want to lie down, get a back rub, stretch, fuck and then come back for another round of this. It's more tiring than I thought it would be. But he just says things and they sound so lucid and they seem to make sense but he's making a mistake. He's assuming that he knows who I am and he shouldn’t do that. Fuck… he always thought he knew who I was. It's one of the reasons he's still here is that… well… sometimes he was right. But he's left again so obviously something went down the drain. Once he leaves he's not allowed to know me anymore. It seems to give me this sense of loss and I never lose. I hate losing anything that I may possibly want to keep.

“You have given yourself a lot of credit haven't you?”

“Don’t Brian. Please don’t.” He all but begs me. I can tell that everything’s getting to him and that he’ll be a wreck. He always was one of those emotional fags. He was always my favourite one and the most beautiful and the fag I wanted to fuck most often too. Fuck I hate this.

“Don’t what, Justin?” He's becoming aggravated.

“You pull at me and you push and I just can't do it anymore. I feel like a fucking yo-yo most days and nothing seems to affect you. I can't get you to react and sometimes I just need you to show me something, give me something.” He's angry but his voice is breaking.

“I thought you realized that you’d never get anything from me.” I say.

“You are a liar.” That surprises me and annoys me I'm always honest. I raise me eyebrows and dare him to continue and he does, “A liar. If you had never given me anything, ever, I would have left you years ago. But what you do is worse. You give me everything, _everything_ and then try and discredit it, or undermine me for wanting it, or take half of it away. I feel like an addict, totally reliant on you for my daily fix. And you know what’s worse, when I get the courage to finally quit, you hate me for it. You look down at me for having faith and then blame me when I lose it, when it eludes me. I just… I just… sometimes it so hard and…” I can tell that all he wants to do is sit down and cry but he's being so strong. He takes a deep breath. 

“You fight and fight me and I know you won’t stop until you win. So I give up, I let you win and you hate me.” He's so quiet and he says, “Sometimes I think that there’s no way I can win this. That I can keep you, because the only way you’ll forgive me is if during all this, I break. It feels like you want me broken.”

He's... I… he's got tears running down his face as if they’re just spilling out of his eyes and he hasn’t even noticed them… but it makes them glow, so fucking blue. So fucking beautiful. My breath catches and I am filled with this feeling that I just… I don’t know what to do with it and God I want him! So fucking much right now. I need him under me, making me feel… touching, making everything else go away, this confusion… making everything stop so that the only thing I know is that I'm drowning in him. His scent and the touch of his skin, his hair, the heat that radiates from him, a total hunger that consumes and…

I move towards him and I kiss him and I feel him gasp against me as I breathe him in. God I want him, I love the taste of him. I can only ever remember his taste, his scent, no matter who I'm with, I crave him. It makes coming home to him seem so much more valuable. I'm coming home and everything’s perfect. Kissing him, I could do it forever but I want to feel more of his skin, need to feel his heat.

My hand slides in to the back of his pants and the muscles in his ass tense when he feels my touch. I run it back up, under his shirt so that I can feel all that skin. I can feel his tears against my cheek, the warm wetness and I need to make sure they’re not still falling. I let go of his mouth to kiss up his cheekbone and he begins to pant, to try and recoup some of his breath. He's completely weak in my arms I'm the only thing holding him up and against me. 

Abruptly I feel his body tense and his eyes fly open as his eyelashes brush against my cheek. He tries to hold himself up on his own and I'm whispering soothing nothings in his ear as I suck on his ear lobe, so good. My hand strokes his back trying to quiet him and I dip it in to his crack again, to rub at the spot just above his hole because that always seems to calm him, feeling me so close to the core of him it always gives him this feeling of stillness… of serenity.

But he's fighting me suddenly, trying to bring his arms up against my chest to push me away and suddenly it registers that he's mumbling ‘No’s’ against my neck and I let him go and take a step backwards in astonishment. He follows me so angry, furious and with tears falling again in rivulets down the smooth plane of his cheeks.

“Make me want it Brian… to get fucked Brian. Do it! Seduce me, fuck me and fuck everything better…” 

He's looking up at me and he looks broken and scared and he… he can't be scared, I've never made him scared… not ever before and… my heart breaks and my chest hurts as he beats his hands against it. I grab hold of his arms to make him stop. 

“I beg you… fuck me… so that in the morning when we realise that this was a big fucking mistake and you kick me out, instead of hating myself for giving in to you… I can hate you. God you make me hate you, Brian.” 

He looks at me his eyes big and… so sad, tears spilling. I take a step back from him and I'm probably looking at him, shocked but he keeps going. 

“I am perfectly aware of the effect that you have on me Brian. That you can make me forget everything just for wanting you so goddamned much, that you can seduce me and make me mindless for you. Don’t worry you don’t need to reassert that power over me. I know… I will always know that you can have me whenever you feel like it.” 

Despair spills into his voice and… Power? I… that was not what this was about…

“Justin?” I say trying to make him stop. He makes it sound dirty and I don’t like feeling like that… not with him, not now.

“You wouldn’t know it…” he whispers, he's calmer. He leans against me and it's as if all his muscles have gone, the fight in him is gone and I hold him as he breathes heavily against me and I want to stroke him and tell him that everything is going to be ok. “You don’t know but my hating you, that’s what makes me know that I'll never love anyone the way I love you.” 

I… I… don’t know what to say. There is nothing I can say to that. I feel… so… I let him go and I turn, he must think I'm going to walk away again.

“You don’t get to… to make things happen and walk away from me without facing the fucking consequences, Brian.” He sobs out after me as his fury starts to regenerate itself. 

I turn back to him. “Be grateful that you’ll love people differently then, better.” 

He stares at me. He runs the back of his hand across his face to wipe the tears away and seems to start to move away from me.

“No, Brian, never better.” He sounds so defeated, “I'll love differently and probably many other men but it’ll never be better. And I'll be happy and satisfied and content. I'll be successful and have other people that’ll love me back. But no matter how much I love them back… they’ll always just be second best. For me or for them it’ll just be second best… because they’ll _never_ be you.” I take a step forward trying to make this easier for him to…

“Justin, that’s a fucking good thing. It won’t be so difficult…” he stops moving away from me as if it's his anger that draws him back.

“You’re an asshole Brian. You think I'd be with you if you just ‘weren’t as difficult?’” he's shouting, “Loving you is every weakness I have but it's every fucking strength too. I will never be as strong or as weak with anyone else as I am with you.”

“You hate me, Justin…”

“Because I love you so fucking much it hurts. It hurts so fucking much and I love it and I want it, I depend on it and crave it.”

“Then what the fuck’s the fucking problem?” I throw back at him my own regret and frustration welling up to confront his anger.

“The pain that I don’t want. Of knowing that you love me just as much as I love you and that you hate that you do. Loving me - that’s what hurts you the most and it hurts me that you don’t want it. That if you knew how to… you would stop!” He's looking down at his hands and the last words he says are almost a whisper as if he's afraid to say them to loud.

“Justin! I don’t know what the fuck you want anymore.” I exclaim, “Do you want me to ask you to stay?” He shuts his eyes and he looks so fucking small. I go towards him, and put my hands on his shoulder and my thumb under his jaw and make him look up at me.

“Stay!”

“No, Brian.” He tries to fight off my grip.

“Justin! Please! I need you to stay.” I let him go and he takes a step backwards and turns away from me.

“And I need you to want me to stay,” he says. “You can need it… but I need you to want it… and not to think yourself weak for wanting it… for wanting me.”

“I can't win with you.” He's fucking pissing me off. He fucking wants… so I give… “All my fucking rules -- I broke them for you Justin and you keep pushing me, I…”

“Brian. Shut up!” he interrupts turning back towards me and he's… incensed again. 

“That excuse was a great one four fucking years ago. But get over it. So you broke your fucking rules. Good - they sucked and they were stupid rules!” He tones down, “And it was hard to throw them out and I'm proud of you for doing it and I love that you did it for me but… you can't keep using that as an excuse to stay stuck in this place without moving forward, without moving anywhere.”

“Justin?” if ever we decide to replay this conversation and someone mentions that I sound surprised at his uncharacteristic anger… just don’t mention it.

“So you want me to tell you something, I'll tell you something.” He continues, “What I think… is that when you were nine, fifteen, eighteen, you decided that you were gonna go to college and you were never going back home. You were going to graduate and be the best at whatever you did, until you got to the top and you were never going to let anyone hurt you like your parents did. Now, you own your own company, your loft, you can help the people you love financially if ever they need you to. You can fuck whomever you want, you’re healthy and you’re beautiful, people want you, and people want to be you.”

“Justin…” I try with a warning tone but he just keeps going.

“You have every single thing that boy you were wanted. And now… you don’t know what to want anymore. You give your friends money when they need it but they never really need anything else from you other than your attention now and again. I am not like all your other friends. Maybe its because I haven't known you since you were twenty or thirteen so I'm not confining you to your past. Maybe it's because I'm not as jaded and failing again and again doesn’t discourage me like it should or make me quit. Maybe it’s because I'm young and naïve; or maybe it's that I believe in love or that I have faith in you. I have no idea what it is but _fuck this_. You just being there and…” 

My eyebrows are raised and I might be staring at him in amazement but he seems to have lost some of his momentum so I try and say something but he interrupts me softly.

“And just so you know. I will never stop pushing you. Not ever, Brian. Letting you believe that you could never change that it wasn’t even expected of you … was the biggest fucking disservice Michael or Linds or Debbie ever did for you. I could tell you that it was all your parents fault and it fucking was but they never claimed to love you unconditionally in a way where you actually believed them. Debbie, Michael and Linds they told you they were your friends, your family, and they let you become successful and they catered to your ego and they accepted you for all your faults. They made excuses for you and allowances when they should have told you that you were acting like a fucking, arrogant, spoilt child…” he shakes his head and sighs but continues.

“I'm infantilizing you and I'm sorry… but other people’s expectations - are how we grow as people. And you Brian… you’re beautiful and you are perfect and I expect more from you. I expect everything from you. And I'm not sorry no one ever expected anything from you because you managed to surpass all they ever thought you could be and you fulfilled your own expectations. And that’s something to be proud of. But the minute you got to where you wanted to go… you stopped. I will never stop expecting things from you Brian. With me you’re never done.”

God, I love him too much. 

If I weren’t so terrified it would be funny. He lectures me and I announce to myself… because it seems I'm the only one who hasn’t heard it said out loud. I think I've felt it but that doesn’t mean I’ve articulated it. Not even in my head.

He's watching me apprehensively, expectant, the trace of tears visible but forgotten. He looks beautiful to me… this is strange. Generally speaking the only time I'm allowed to have these thoughts is when I'm a drink too close to passing out. Either my previous alcohol consumption is having a latent effect or I need a drink so that my drunkenness can catch up to my heart. It can't be the first one though; I used the word consumption... and the words latent effect… twice.

I go over to him and I kiss him gently, holding his head firmly in my hand. His mouth is open but he's not being very responsive. I'm not sure if it's stubbornness or perplexity but I kiss him anyway, tasting him, I flick my tongue over his lips, dip into his mouth. I can feel him breathing, feel his breath against my lips as I rest my forehead against his and his big eyes are glowing but his brow is furrowed with mystified curiosity. I kiss him again quickly and push him towards the door. He has no idea what’s going on, or I'm sure he’d be putting up more of a fight.

He needs to go. I need… I have no idea what I need. All I know is that while I'm figuring it out he can't be here.

“I'll call you later, Justin.”

“What?”

“Later?” I shut the door and lean against it. I hear a muffled ‘what the fuck’ and I feel him kick the door. He's going to be really angry until he cools down.

I walk towards the whiskey, pick up the bottle and a glass and stare at them. I put the glass down, open the bottle and swallow.


	2. Chapter 2

Justin’s POV

I brooded for a few days after Brian shoved me out of the loft. 

Who am I kidding? I am still brooding. The thing that managed to resolve itself after a few days was the anger and general desire for him to die and leave me alone. Then I thought about how that would actually affect me and I just got really depressed. 

Daphne came to fetch me today and got me out of the bed and gave me a kick in the ass. She got me showered and dressed; she even picked out my clothes, dragged me out, force fed me coffee and cross-examined me.

“Give him a month.”

“Who?”

“Brian, you idiot.”

“A month of what? For what? I don’t even know what happened at the end of it. I don’t know if that was an ‘I never want to see you again so fuck off’ kiss or maybe a ‘shut up you talk too much and know nothing’ kiss or an ‘I'm furious but showing no emotions’ kiss or best and worst of all ‘wait for me I need to think’ kiss?”

“Why is that last one the worst?”

“Because generally speaking, hope is wishful fantasizing.”

“And people call you Sunshine?”

“I know, in reality I'm a bitter, cynical sort. Obviously, you are the only person who truly knows me.” She laughs out loud and I grin at her. Then she tilts her chin at me to illustrate the real reason for that name. We pick up from where we drifted off subject.

“He said he’d call you. So he will. Brian is hardly one for leading you on or giving dogs bones.”

“Huh?”

“Whatever. Anyway I know you’re hoping it's the last one.”

“How d’ya figure?” I say sarcastically.

“You’re drinking Brian’s coffee.”

“What?” 

I say looking at my Starbucks. How could she get insight from my fucking coffee?

“Non-Fat Latte with lots of sugar; it means you miss him cause usually you’ll get that flavoured crap with lots of cream, or if you’re PMS’y a hot chocolate with lots of cream or in the summer you get a Frappuccino with lots of cream. Are you picking up on the pattern now? Sweat? Cream? Fat?”

“I… I…” I shake my head and I glare at my coffee.

“You did that when you were with Ethan. It's how I knew not to give up hope.” She gestures dramatically, “Though how you managed on tasteless non-fat latte’s for that long, I'll never know.”

“I hate you!” 

Though I'm not sure whether I'm referring to her, to my coffee or life in general. I state it quite firmly in any case because it comes to me suddenly. I feel the symbolic light bulb blink on over my head.

“No, you don’t. You love me. Anyway… what Brian will or will not do is not the biggest issue at the moment.”

“Have you not been listening? He...” I say dramatically, she interrupts.

“Yes, I know but still you have much bigger shit to worry about.” She looks at me as if I were a child.

“What?” I say a little apprehensively.

“You’re living with your ex’s mother.” I stare at her.

“W-what? I'm not… I'm living with Mi…” I trail off. 

She’s looking at me with her lips pursed and her eyebrows raised waiting for it to dawn on me and trying not to laugh. I hit her and we start to giggle.

Daphne knows how to make me laugh; she makes me act like a high school girl with a crush. But I suppose she’s known me when that was exactly what I was. So I forgive her.

“You need a place. You can turn it into a studio once you and the All-Mighty get back to fucking every four minutes. Call your mom.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” I tell her.

“Justin… shut-the-fuck-up and call your fucking mother. She’s worried.”

“Oh! Ok! I'll call her then ask her about a studio. Fucking bully. I'm getting sick of tofu anyway.”

 

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It's been another week and I've been keeping myself as busy as possible finding a studio, setting it up, moving, buying things, painting. Obviously, having a Mother as a realtor is a good thing cause the whole moving process is quicker and easier. 

Daphne is the only person that I can tolerate at the moment. My mom is worried and interfering. Debbie is loud and interfering. Michael is… Michael is angry as if Brian has done something huge to personally offend him. Here I thought we were the ones breaking up but noooooo it's all about him and ‘Brian is such an asshole, how could he say things like that to me? How could he do this to me? We’ve been best friends since we were thirteen years old and he's just thrown it away.’ He's driving me crazy. Emmett treats me the same and Ted… surprisingly enough… he keeps trying to fix things and get me to call Brian. I get the impression that things at work are a little bit tense.

So it's around six pm and I've been painting all afternoon but I know I'll have to stop soon because my hand will start acting up. My upper body is covered in different coloured paint smudges because I like to paint without my shirt on… Brian liked me to paint without my shirt on. I usually get hot when I'm painting anyway so it was never a big deal. It involves so much energy and I get totally consumed by what I'm painting. It would turn him on; the way my muscles moved and tensed. How I’d sweat and the scent of me would fill the loft. The way that I would forget his presence, be oblivious to him, would frustrate and make him hard. Until finally after hours of my teasing, he’d have enough, wait for a suitable moment and jump me. 

I loved weekends. 

We’d fuck for hours then we’d shower and he’d wash me because apparently I needed his help to get all the paint off … you know those hard to reach places? He seemed to be able to find paint in very strange spots. Never really found out how I’d get paint in my ass. Afterwards we’d sit on the bed and talk and I'd sketch him and he’d get turned on all over again by the intensity and the different ways I’d look at him while I was drawing him. But he’d always wait until I was finished, building up the tension until we were both hard and wet and then… we’d fuck again.

I realize that I stopped painting a while ago and I’m lost in my fantasy and remembering, when I hear a knock on the door. I put my paintbrush down and try and clean some of the paint off my hands with a rag I keep near my easel and I go and open the door.

It's him! Beautiful in dark slacks and a dark burgundy shirt, my nose flares up immediately with the knowledge that he’s near and he smells clean and musky and I think I could never imagine a time when I'm near him and my body doesn’t react to his. It draws me to him and I love that… it irritates me a little, not Brian so much, but my body’s response to him.

I take a step back to let him in and he does. All the time his eyes are tracing my body flicking from one splash of paint to another. They start to glaze over and he steps up to me, his hand reaching out to trace what his eyes have but his fingers curl into a fist and his hand drops. My breathing has already quickened but I calm it and look at his face. His eyes are closed and he takes a breath and looks right at me. He says firmly and my eyes widen as he continues.

“I'm gonna ask you out and you’re gonna say yes. Then you’re going to go and get dressed… into something pretty and we are going to go eat and make small, meaningless conversation. Then I'm going to take you home and we are gonna fuck because it's been… if I can't remember that in hours or at the most in days then it's been too fucking long.” 

I stare at him with what must look like innocent wide eyed confusion and… I…

“Well? What the fuck are you waiting for? Go shower!” 

So I go towards the bathroom, close the door, lean my forehead against it and think. Then I open the door, go back to him and I start, very firmly I might add. 

“Brian? What…” but he interrupts.

“Justin… just do what I want for once,” he pleads. “Go and get ready.” 

I stare at him. He looks so cute and out of his depth and I in no way allow any of those sentiments to register on my face.

“Fine! But we are arguing tomorrow!”

“Fine!” I turn to go and get ready. He calls out after me, “About what?” I smile.

“About the fact that you aren’t aware that I look pretty no matter what I'm wearing.” 

He snorts and I can hear him rifling through my closet trying to find something suitable as I get the temperature in the shower right. And as I wash my hair I can hear him thinking that actually I look prettiest when I'm not wearing anything and that I should hurry the fuck up or we won’t get to go out because he’ll come in to check on me and he’ll get distracted by how pretty I look all wet and… with the hour I spent fantasising about him before he arrived and the fact that he’s here now… I'm hard. I look up suddenly as a shiver goes up my spine and he’s watching me, his eyes shining with lust.

“Don’t jerk off! It would be such a waste.” He says softly eyeing me and biting his bottom lip.

“So fuck off then!” I tell him as I turn the temperature down… a lot down. “I can't get rid of it if I know you’re in the building. Go wait in the car.”

It takes me 20 minutes to get ready once he leaves and if I do say so myself with the clothes he picked out and a few Justin-like alterations, I look very pretty indeed. I go down to the Vette.

 

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We arrive at a tiny, random restaurant… well random meaning, it's one I've never been to before but that’s hardly surprising the closest I've come to a restaurant in like a year is a take out menu. They show us to our table in a dark, hidden corner and Brian goes to sit down but pauses when he realises that I haven't moved. He raises his eyebrow questioningly.

“Aren’t you going to pull my seat out for me and help me sit down?” I ask. He looks horrified and I try to hide my smile and continue seriously. “That is what you’re supposed to do when you’re on a date, right?” His eyes widen then narrow. He ignores me and sits down. I do the same – all by myself too. I hope he's suitably impressed. The waiter gives us our menus and we open them. 

While he's reading, Brian asks me. “You mean you don’t know?” hmmm… what? I look up.

“Know what?” I ask confused.

“What it is you’re supposed to do on a date?” He looks up at me and I watch him suspiciously as he continues. “You’ve never been on a date before?” I shake my head slowly, he seems amused “You left me for the romantic fiddler and he didn’t even take you out, before putting out?” he's highly amused now and I'm… well I'm not but somehow this is still fun. The waiter approaches and I smile sweetly.

“I was fucking around behind your back, Dear. Dating wasn’t really conducive in that kind of situation.” I continue to smile and wrinkle my nose in that way that annoys him because he finds it kind of cute. The waiter looks shocked, embarrassed and quite prepared to run way. Brian looks at him calmly and demands a bottle of wine while we read the menus and select our food.

“Well, I suppose I can't fault you for wanting to wait...” He continues, “You always seem to let me get there first, before all others.” 

“I like to be consistent. Why fuck with a good thing?” The wine arrives and we order our food.

“So?” I ask seriously as I watch him. He tenses but doesn’t try and pretend that he doesn’t know what I'm talking about, what I'm asking.

“We could talk once we get to the loft.” He tries and I smile at his half assed attempt to distract me from the conversation he and I both know we have to have.

“Brian, you and I both know that once we get within sight of the loft, talking will be the last thing on our minds.” He seems to open his mouth to argue but I interject “Unless your idea of talking is ‘fuck me’, ‘harder’ and ‘faster’ the loft is not a place that encourages conversation… at least not for us.” He smiles at me.

“If we’re using that as a basis of classification then we should rule out all places containing horizontal surfaces.”

“You’re not giving us enough credit… we should include most places with vertical surfaces too… or surfaces period.” 

This is good, us sharing again… its meaningless banter but God it feels good. Just from this and from him being near me I feel myself relax perceptibly. I continue and I ask the important questions as if nothing had interrupted.

“Brian, what do you think? What did you decide? What…?” I shake my head, “I don’t know what question I'm supposed to ask you.” 

He closes his eyes and takes a breath. “Justin… I have no idea.” 

Normal people would have a heart attack after those words. After all that’s happened and… he doesn’t know? But no one ever said I was normal. I'm also not unaware of the fact that I've left the whole ‘what’s next’ question up to him and that’s slightly unfair. It’s a lot of pressure. And I know Brian, for him to be here… that means everything, it means he's going to try, that he's willing to… and well… I don’t know either. I suppose I'm good at the hope thing.

“Ok,” I say. He tenses as if he's expecting me to get up and leave, “It would be unfair of me to leave you to do all the work.” 

He huffs and says, “Sometimes, I actually wish you were a hysterical, adolescent brat all the time.”

“Don’t hate me cause I'm mature. And don’t think you’re getting away with anything and that we’ll go back to the way things were.” I continue but still trying to keep the tone of the conversation light. He raises his eyebrows.

“If you think it would work you can get all Dom on me and lecture me again. It was kind of a turn on.” I blush and he laughs at me. Ass! Our food arrives and we eat for a few minutes. Till I get distracted with thoughts.

“Okay…” I start serious again, “I could ask you what you want but you’d panic and bitch because you’ll realize that maybe you actually don’t know. I could tell you what I want but you’ll panic and bitch, feel like I'm backing you into a corner, giving you an ultimatum of some kind and I don’t think I know.” I sigh, “We could actually listen to what other people think we want but we’ll end up hating each other because those other people are just trying to project their needs on us, trap us within their own conventions…” he interrupts.

“You’re babbling. If I wasn’t… well me, I’d think it cute and endearing but since I am… me, that is, it's annoying.” 

I take a deep breath and start fiddling with my fork, not looking at him.

“I know I want you Brian. I know I'll probably want you forever. I know that I'm prepared to be yours in any way we choose to define that, but I also know that you still might not be prepared to be mine quite yet. I know that I can deal with that as long as you can occasionally give me the hope that maybe you can be mine one day; that you’ll want to be mine. I know that I need help sometimes. I know I'm strong but I acknowledge that maybe I'm not strong enough to carry us through everything alone.” I look up at him, “I know this is making you totally uncomfortable. I also know that you may not be able to answer me in any way.” He sucks in a breath and his eyes are wide he's got his arms crossed in front of him and he's leaning back. 

“Okay.” 

He drives me crazy. Why do I love this man? Sometimes I seriously question my sanity. Okay? Okay to what? I wasn’t really asking a question so what does that mean? I sit back and think. Okay is going to mean that I'm in charge. 

“Fine!” I say calmly “Then we’re going to do this my way. I'll try and make it as painless as possible but you have to promise me you’ll participate. Brian, promise me you’ll try.” He looks at me intensely as if he's trying to read me, the pages in my brain. He blinks and gives me an imperceptible nod. He is so exasperating but fine we’ll do it my way.

Shit I now have to think of a way… a way that is mine.

I furrow my brow, purse my lips and try to think. I pick up my fork and start to eat again. Brian eyes me warily for a few seconds but then he does the same. We eat silently for a while but I can tell he's still expecting me to spring something on him and I will… be springing that is… once I figure out what to spring with. But right now, this second all I can think about is that I want to taste his steak and that salad dressing looks so good… really he’d benefit from letting me try it cause then maybe I'll be able to copy it later and he’ll…

“Justin,” I blink, look up and realize that Brian is watching me with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” He roles his eyes and turns his concentration back to his plate. Then he looks back at me and holds out his fork. My eyes widen and he tilts his head quickly to one side as if to say hurry the fuck up I won’t wait forever. I grin and lean forward to receive the bite. Its good, I lick my lips and chew slowly trying to make a show out of it as a reward to him… after all in his words that was quite lesbionic. He sighs, exasperated.

“If I hadn’t given you a bite you’d have given my plate puppy eyes all night, it would have annoyed me and I would have decided to dump your ass without fucking it. So this way everyone benefits.”

“Of course,” I nod sagely. 

He smirks at me then he raises an eyebrow and says, “So?”

“So what?” I blink and then realise what he meant, “Oh… I don’t know yet.”

“Don’t know what?”

“What the way is.” He looks at me in this you’re an idiot but I still think you might, maybe possibly, be kind of worthwhile. He shakes his head with this small smile, looks down and we continue to eat in comfortable silence. When they clear our plates and he orders my dessert, he asks.

“So now what?”

“What makes you think I would know? Technically you’re the expert you’ve been on a date before.”

“Yeah but if we were doing it my way then everything’s already gone wrong.”

“You fucked the waiter before you even finished the main course?” I asked with wide-eyed amusement.

“Uh… yes.”

“God, I must be good.”

“You’re not terrible,” he says with mock seriousness, “So?”

“We’re going back to the loft.” 

He looks confused and asks, “I thought that if we went back to the loft we’d just…”

“You thought right.” I interrupt.

“But then…” 

I interrupt again, “The way is dependant on you not knowing what it is.” He's going to fight me on this even though he's finding it very amusing. So I do the only thing I can I get up and say.

“I'm going to the bathroom. Don’t follow me,” as I walk off, I think about the fact that I’m glad that I am in a relationship where I need to clarify to the guy I'm with that ‘I am going to the bathroom’ is not code for ‘come and fuck me’. I can't believe my life’s turned out this way.

As I walk back I go past him and he snags my wrist and pulls me to him. I try and protest but before I get a word out, his tongue is down my throat and I'm sitting sideways on his lap with his hard cock pulsing under me. It makes me wonder how long he's been hard. I curve my arms around his neck and taste him. He's got his arms around my waist, holding me against him. I moan my appreciation low in my throat. After the initial intensity, the first time our mouths have touched in such a long time, the first taste, Brian slows down, to savour me. He pulls back a little to suck at my tongue; lets me go to chew on my lower lip. Slowly, too slowly, he moves back until we’re fused together again. 

Someone should give me credit for not swinging a leg round to straddle him so I can rub my ass against his crotch but at the same time stimulate mine against his front. Sitting with my legs like this I've got nothing touching me and I'm hard and wanting. I think I whimper because Brian’s hand comes down to rub at the front of my pants. I gasp and I'm about to start to beg when I hear someone clear their throat. I pull myself away from Brian’s mouth and I look up, dazed. Brian doesn’t take that as a sign to stop but keeps on kissing up my jaw, sucking at the hard corner where it turns up to meet my ear. It's one of my most sensitive spots and I shiver. The waiter is standing besides us.

“Sirs?” he says with distress as if maybe dessert will be enough to tear us apart from each other… he is so right. I smile at him sweetly and motion for him to place it in front of us. He does so, but doesn’t move away.

“Yes?” I ask.

“Will you be needing a second spoon?”

“No, I think we can manage with just the one.” I feel Brian huff a laugh as he hides his face in my hair and takes the opportunity to suck on my ear lobe. My eyes widen automatically and the waiter seems to be about to come in his pants… or maybe he’s on the verge of a nervous break down I'm not sure which. I am sure though that I'm not moving my ass, it's very comfortable at the moment. We’re also in quite a hidden corner and the restaurant isn’t far off Liberty. So they’ll just have to deal with it.

I pick the spoon up and dig into the chocolaty mess I have in front of me. Brian knows me well. My lack of attention doesn’t seem to dissuade him from doing naughty things to my ear. I laugh as I taste the first bite and moan, half due to the sweetness and half from Brian’s attentions.

“Give me a taste.” I smile and dig the spoon in again. I turn to face him more and hold it to his lips. His tongue flicks out to lick at the underside of the spoon but he doesn’t attempt to take the mouthful. His eyes never leave mine as his hand moves up to take the spoon from me. I moan for the loss of his hand rubbing at my crotch but he must draw the line at me feeding him. He surprises me though turning the spoon around and feeding it to me instead, my eyes widen with shock as he comes close to me and kisses me. My mouth full of chocolate and Brian as he eats his fill out of it. I don’t think I can finish dessert if this is the way we’re eating it. I'll come before we finish the third bite.

“Its good. I want more.” He moves his arm around me to fill the spoon again. I grab his wrist, stilling it and trying not to move my mouth too far from his so I can still taste him and suck the flavour of Brian and chocolate off his tongue, as I murmur.

“Brian please, please, please… leave it… let’s go home.”

“But that would be such a waste.” He eyes me steadily. I start to move my ass over his crotch, to see of I can try and persuade him. His mouth falls open a bit so that he can breathe easier and his eyes role back slightly before refocusing on mine.

“Finish it Justin.” I gasp and hold my breath. “Don’t rush it either. I don’t like wasting food that I'm paying for.” 

“Liar. Like you give a shit.” I moan and he grins.

“You’re right, but you’re gonna do what I say regardless.” My mouth starts to water and I take the spoon out of his hand and reach out to fill it, I put it in my mouth, drop the spoon back onto the plate, turn and kiss him, feeding him again, kissing him, feeding him, breathing only him. 

After a while I notice that our waiter’s back with the bill. Either Brian signalled for it while I was busy molesting him or the waiter’s trying to hint at something. As Brian passes him his credit card, I reach for another spoonful trying to sneak it in quickly while he's distracted. Followed by another, which he notices so I turn and pass it back to him. He sucks the soft, warm chocolate off of my tongue, his hand drops and it’s rubbing delicately over the zipper of my pants. I move my hips up trying to increase the pressure on my cock and in the process I hear Brian moan at the added stimulation to his. I gasp and pull away.

“This will be the only time ever that I'm thankful that you would take me to small pretentious restaurants that serve small obnoxious portions.” I say and he laughs as I turn back to the plate, “Only one more, how do you want it?” his eyes glaze with sudden heat and he groans. He starts to whisper dirty things in my ear as I reach for the spoon again and I melt.

“I don’t think the patrons in this restaurant would appreciate the true beauty that would be you, bent over this table naked and covered in chocolate. God, can you imagine the taste…” His breathing intensifies as does his persistent rubbing and squeezing of my dick. “God Justin if you’re a good boy I'll get some take-out mousse one day, as a surprise and lick it out of your ass. The week after that I'll eat strawberries out of your tight little hole.” 

“Brian, please?” I'm almost hyperventilating. I'm dizzy and so close. I've stopped pretending to be capable of thought. My head’s hanging back against his shoulder and he’s whispering against my neck, sucking and licking at any part of me he can reach, his breath making me shiver and I'm so close… so close. He stops abruptly to get that last mouthful, sticking it in his mouth and dropping the spoon again so that his hand can go and squeeze my cock roughly. I gasp and start to shake. I raise myself so that I can taste him. He pulls away slightly so that I can only lick the chocolate off his lips. Suddenly I feel his fingers down the front of my pants. They brush over the tip of my cock, putting pressure on the underside directly under the head and pressing into the slit at the same time as his mouth comes down to consume me in a mind blowing kiss. He swallows my cry as I come.

He pulls back slowly and looks at me sweetly but I'm delirious so I'm aware of the fact that I'm hallucinating. His fingers brush over my cheek and then slap at my hip.

“Get up. I need you flat on your back in the next 10 minutes. We have to go.” He practically carries me out of that place; finding the time to sign the check and remember his credit card.

I'm in the Vette when sanity returns and I blush the second it does. I can't believe that just happened. I turn to glare at Brian and I can tell he’s smiling to himself impressed with something.

“We just broke up again.” He turns to look at me then back at the road.

“Okay, but can we get back together briefly once we get back to the loft so that you can aid me in the relief of this hard-on. After all it's your fault that I have this need to fuck you for hours.”

“I think you deserve it actually.” Symbolic light bulb switches on suddenly and I grin evilly on the inside. I reach over and undo his pants. “I think you really deserve to be this hard, with no release, after doing that to me in public. Making me come in public like that, in my pants like I was 17 and a virgin all over again.” I wrap my fingers around his cock and stroke and squeeze alternately, then brush my thumb over the tip. He sucks in a breath harshly and one of his hands pulls my hand off and pins it to my thigh. 

“I can't come while I'm driving. Don’t touch anymore.”

“Who said I was gonna let you come? But whatever you say.”

 

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The short ride back is silent. Once we get to the front door Brian immediately walks towards the stairs because the elevator isn’t waiting for us already and climbing the stairs would be quicker. But I pointedly go towards it, stop, press the button that calls it down and wait. He glares at me, sighs and comes up behind me, curving his arms around my front, holding me to him. I tilt my head back to look up at him and give him my faux ‘Justin is innocent’ look, which he doesn’t believe for a second but still manages to drive him crazy. He starts to rub up against my ass and bends his head down to suck at my ear lobe.

When the elevator arrives he lets me go, pushes me in and goes and stands on the opposite side of me. We go up without touching; recuperating so that once we get home we’ll be starting up again but from a lower boiling point. Once Brian opens, closes and locks the door we’re both calmer. He turns around to face me and pulls me towards him and we kiss, slow, savouring. The urgency seems to be gone. Brian walks me backwards up the steps near the bathroom and then stops. I pull away so I can get on to the bed but he stops me and tugs me back.

“I want to watch you. I want you to watch us.” He kisses me again and even though I'm not quite sure what he's talking about I trust his choreography. He stops and turns me around so that my back is resting on the length of his chest and I see myself, pale against dark in the full-length mirror we’re standing in front of, I moan. Our eyes meet in the mirror and they don’t waver as he slowly begins to unbutton my shirt, stroking every inch of exposed skin as he goes. I can feel how hard he still is against my ass. He still hasn’t gotten off but Brian has the best control I've ever seen. It's one of the reasons he's so good at this, his patience and willpower. He can keep me on the brink for hours and hours or make me cum again and again until I'm senseless and over sensitized and delirious and then he's inside me and I'll shatter, fracture into a million pieces, trusting that he’ll hold me together.

He's playing with my nipples rolling and pinching them and they’re hard and I'm hard and I really want him inside me already. I've waited too long and we can leave foreplay to morning sex… the sex we will be having all of tomorrow. I really need him inside, to remind me, to make me his. I haven't been his for so long.

“Brian” I beg.

“I know, Justin.” He tilts my head and starts to suckle at my neck. He's marking me and making me his and I know that if he doesn’t get inside me soon I won’t be able to stand, my legs will give out. 

Suddenly, I realize that technically no one said I couldn’t take my own clothes off. My hands rush to the button on my pants and open it quickly. Brain’s hand comes to join mine and I pause dreading the possibility that he’ll stop me but he doesn’t instead his hand slides under mine, lower to cup my crotch. I'm not wearing any underwear I remember, Brian did pick out my clothes and he hates me with underwear. He's watching me and I look debauched. My eyes are so glazed I can hardly keep them open but I have to watch. God, I want to watch. My eyes are flickering between Brian’s face and whatever his hands are doing to me. He blows air over the wetness he's left on my neck and it makes me shiver and I moan and rest my head against his shoulder because I can't hold it up on my own anymore. I'm still watching through barely opened eyes. 

He lets me go and comes around in front of me, leans in as if to kiss me but then kneels down instead to take my shoes and socks off. I really wanted to kiss him and suddenly that’s all I can think about and it's so important and I know that in this position I won’t get to kiss him as much as I want to kiss him.

“Brian.” I press down on his shoulders and he looks up at me. “Promise me.” and he tugs my pants off. “Ahhh…” I gasp, I hiss as he licks at the tip of my cock and then smiles up at me in assurance. He stands up and I feel his lips for a second before he's behind me again. I really wanted to suck on those for a while and I turn my head to oblige but he forces my head forward with his fingers so that I keep watching. He cups my balls with his fingers and rubs at the length of my cock with his thumb. I'm white, pale against the frame of him and my shirt. I realize he's still dressed and that’s wrong.

“Fix it! Be naked Brian. Fuck me.” He nods and replaces his own hand with mine so that I can keep on stroking my cock. I'm not stupid enough to think he’ll let me come. During sex he never loses sight of what he wants and how he wants to get me there. He knows exactly how to get me there. I close my eyes and next time I open them it's because I feel him behind me again, his legs, his skin against mine. I can feel the shape of his cock but I want the heat of it and my shirt’s not letting me… I move my hands to take it off and he doesn’t stop me, he watches me and I take it off so slow and drop it between us. I move back, still slow until my ass is pressed against his crotch and I groan at the heat, and urgency fills me as I rub against him and move my hand back to my dick. He stops me and I whimper.

I really need to touch… I'm so hard… need to feel something on my cock and in my ass now. I want him to split me open but I don’t want to tell him that… he knows and… he’ll know that I hate having to live without that ache in my ass that reminds me of him.

“Brian please?” I try to raise one of my legs but I've got nothing to rest it up against I need to feel more open. His hand moves down to hold my leg up for me and his other one starts to play with me, fondle me and tug at my balls, keeping them from rising every time I start to feel that rush. He kisses my neck.

I gasp and give in so fucking quickly.

He drops my leg and bends me forward. My hands come up automatically to brace myself against the mirror and he's got me bent at 90 degrees and his tongue up my ass before I even have time to register any movement. He's lapping at my entrance leaving it good and wet and he follows his tongue in with a finger then two quickly so I can feel the stretch, the burn and he keeps stretching me, now with lube and pressing a third finger into me. I rest my forehead against the mirror, its cool and it seems to calm me down some. 

“Open your eyes Justin, I still want you to watch.” How did he know they were closed? I didn’t know they were closed till he told me to open them. I can see him kneeling behind me in the reflection in the mirror, the parts I can see between my legs. His cock is so hard, wet and I can see the head glistening and it takes all of my strength to not let my legs give way and fall to my own knees so I can sit on his lap and take it all the way inside me. He must know I'm watching because suddenly his hand is there and he's stroking himself and… I'm having issues with my breathing. I feel his tongue stroking and tickling my hole, inside and out and I'm watching Brian pleasure himself for me and with each tug on his cock mine responds in sympathy and twitches and I…. I look higher and I can see how hard I am and that I'm dripping and I start to beg again, unintelligibly. By this point nothing I say is coherent but Brian knows what it means… it's quite simple really – You! In me! Now! He's rolling a condom on and then he stands up and I feel the pressure against my hole.

“Ready?” he doesn’t let me answer before he's tearing into me and there’s so much relief in the filling and so much pain and pleasure and the only reason I'm standing is cause he's holding my hips as he forces me back on to him to take all of him in. He's inside me and he's pulling me so that I'm standing upright. He's holding me tight to his chest while my head’s lolling on his shoulder, my mouth open and panting and our eyes meet, he's watching me. My eyes are dilated and glowing in the mirror. He's got longer legs than me so I'm on the tip of my toes and gravity has him so deep inside me. My hands are up around the back of his neck holding me up. He's not thrusting, just seems to be there, filling me and rolling his hips up so that he lights up every nerve in my ass and he's a constant pressure against my prostate, nudging it and stroking it. My nerves are constantly alight with continuous waves of pleasure.

I start to clench my ass steadily and I hear him start to pant and his grip on my hips tightens. I feel completely stretched on the inside but also in the mirror. Brian has me pinned to him, me on my toes so that I can take him, with my arms stretched up and behind. I'm so open, I’ve never been so open and instead of feeling threatened or vulnerable I feel secure and safe and I start to tremble. I can see the contrast of the colours of my skin and his, my cock so hard and purple against the stretch of my pale abdomen, leaking continuously, cum bubbling out of the slit and dripping down the shaft. Suddenly he starts to pull out until only the head of his cock is still inside me. Our eye contact never falters.

“We look beautiful, don’t we?” he says and with these words he thrusts all the way in quick, brutal and he hits me, there, so hard. I scream and shudder as I come.

He doesn’t give me time to come down off the high of the orgasm that tore through me. He's got me on my knees and he's set a fierce pace as he pounds into me. His constant attention to my prostate is painful… I'm feeling too much. God it's too much. He doesn’t let me soften, I'm still hard and it… and I throb and I ache and it's killing me and I know that when I come again so soon after I just did it’ll hurt as it rips me apart.

He keeps hammering into me and I'm babbling and sobbing, my face hidden in my arms. Occasionally he’ll stop and grind up against me and swivel his hips so that every few minutes instead of the regular beating my prostate is used to, and needs, so that I can come he starts to stroke it lightly, tickling till it's an itch that has me clawing at the floor in desperation. In seconds I'm a gibbering mess and he keeps going for minutes and hours, steadily never letting up his pace. I'm delirious and he just keeps pounding. All I can feel is him so deep inside me again and again because he just can't get any further in and I feel battered and I've never felt so numb with pleasure, so bruised, so torn open.

Suddenly he begins to slow down and as he does, I start to collect my senses. I realize I'm sobbing and begging and his hands start to stroke my torso, soothing me. He sits back on his heels and spreads his knees. He's holds my hips tight against him so that I never loose that contact. I'm still kneeling but now I'm sitting on his lap, with my knees outside of his. So my ass is spread really wide and I'm so open and he's so deep again. We’re still facing the mirror and my cock and balls are on display. I can see how full and hard they are and I can just see where he's entering my body. I feel so stretched and I start to tremble as he cradles me against his chest, his arms holding me tight, crossed over my shoulders. I feel so weak and used. He's looking at me and I can hardly keep my head up. I feel like a nerveless puddle, boneless, listless. His hand comes up to cradle my jaw and turn my face so that our lips can meet. He kisses me and we breathe each other in for a few moments and everything’s so still, the air is so dense.

“This is it Jus. I'm too close, be a good boy and do the last one.” 

Guh! It's one of those moments that make me hate him and love him and hate him for the scary amount of control he has over my mind, my emotions and my body. I know I'm incapable of movement or thought right now. I'm totally incapable… he knows it too but he also knows that I'll try anything for him… he makes me want to try so hard to raise myself up for that last thrust that will finish this… so that I can be his little boy and it terrifies me and it intensifies everything by thousands and it exhilarates. I know I'm weak and mindless right now I probably only raise up a little before falling back on to his cock but I tense every muscle inside me and clutch at him with the last of my strength. His hand moves up to brush over my cock lightly.

“Good boy.” I don’t think I make a sound as my orgasm splits me open and everything goes black.

When I come to I don’t know whether it’s minutes or seconds later, we’re still in the same position. Brian’s still inside me and he's stroking my belly while he watches me come around.

“Come on we’ll be more comfortable in bed.” 

I whimper and burrow into his chest I feel like crying but he laughs gently and smacks my hip and helps me up. I breathe in sharply as I pull off him and I feel so empty… and Jesus everything’s so sore. He leads me to bed and cleans us both up while I stand there dumbly, before pulling the duvet down and pushing me in. I wince at the sting in my ass but I still feel numb. He gets in beside me, lies on his back and pulls me close. My head’s resting on his chest and my body is fitted to his side with one arm resting on his belly and I lightly scratch and pet him with my fingers. Our legs are tangled together and his hand is stroking through my hair. 

“I hate that you can do that.”

“No, you don’t. You hate that you love it.” 

I close my eyes and acquiesce because he's right. I decide that I know what the ‘way’ is. It's now! After mind numbing sex, sated and relaxed. He's lighting his after fuck cigarette and its dark. He can feel me here with him but he can hardly see me. Maybe he’ll close his eyes and pretend that he's alone, I have no idea. All I know is that I've just given him everything I am again and I need him to open up a little for me. When he finishes his cigarette I ask him.

“What do you know Brian?” He pauses in his stroking and shifts a little so he's facing me more. His right hand moves down my back and pulls me up and closer to him. His hip hitches under my crotch, which is still so sensitive it makes the leg I had over him hitch up and hook up higher on his thighs. His left hand cups my head and holds it to him. He continues as if he was expecting this and he starts off quietly, hesitantly.

“I know that I don’t hate it when your crap is lying around the loft making a mess, that its possible that I miss it when it's gone. I know that I still get enough take-out for two people. I know that maybe I'm curious about the flavours, the taste of your skin with cream, or caramel, strawberries and chocolate. And… I know I can live without you but that maybe I’d prefer it if I didn’t have to. I might already… mostly… be sort of yours. In that more or less kind of way, maybe.”

I screw my eyes tight and take a breath. I turn my face and press a kiss over his heart. I think I can last on that for a while. We go to sleep with Brian still holding me close.


End file.
